Destroyed by that which we love
by Punished By Love
Summary: Alois has never been able to help that he loves his demon butler-or much of anything for that matter. The only thing he can control is the pain which he inflicts upon himself.


The small blonde haired boy sat broken upon the chilled tile floor, a small glistening pool of blood collecting around him, the sticky red fluid dripped from his pale abused thighs to the floor. The blade was still grasped in his shaking fist. A quiet, tortured gasp escaped his paled lips and the knife clattered loudly to the floor as his beautiful faced turned skywards, soft, downy, gold bangs falling off his forehead to reveal brilliant blue eyes. Eyes so blue that the sky almost wept in envy at their color. A shiver trailed down his spine and on shaky legs, like a colt newly born, he stood. The blood cascaded from the long parallel cuts down the smooth ivory skin of his legs. He was barely able to struggle to his feet and he exhaled a shuddering breath. He could see his reflection in the red pool and he found he hated what he saw. For how could he love himself if no one else could? He stumbled to the door, falling against it, slender hands searching desperately for the long silver handle before finding it, spilling himself onto the floor of the room on the other side. He pulled himself to his feet once more, leaving a smear of blood on the wooden floor of the bedroom. With the bumbling steps of a person running after tripping in an attempt not to fall, he reached the bed, collapsing upon it with a loud huff of breath. He would have to clean the floor and the bathroom before Claude could see it, but for now it was all he could do just to sit there, dizzy with blood loss. Breathing was like tearing knifes in and out of his lungs. He sat there in silence, saver for his harsh breathing, letting his aching heart pulse its pain of crumbling into nothing through out his slender, delicate form. Something was wrong with him he decided. He was broken beyond repair and was born that way: Broken. Why else would he be unworthy of something as beautiful as love? His acting the way he was didn't help either. Pretending to have moods that swung wildly, being abusive—it was all just a ploy. He had hoped it would get him what he wanted, but he had quickly learned that it only made things worse, but by then it had been too late for him to stop. That's why he did this—the cutting—he had to hurt himself to balance out all the pain he caused others. He deserved it. Although…most of the cuts were for himself. For all the pain he inflicted upon himself hoping that Claude would come to love him. He was a fool. Slowly his breathing slowed and he sat in silence for a while longer before standing, blood cracking where it had dried on his legs and several of the new scabs cracking and bleeding once more. He walked back to the bathroom and stood in the tub. With a warm wet wash clothe and he wiped the blood off his pale ivory skin, staining the white clothe. He continued to use it to clean the blood off both floors before tossing it into the fire, tempted to toss him-self into its welcoming blaze. He sighed and walked to his dresser instead, pulling out clean clothes before shedding the ones he currently wore, setting the clean ones down to reach for the disinfectant and the gauze wrappings. He hadn't bothered with the disinfectant previously until he had discovered that it burned like a wild fire in a pine forest. The pain it gave him was almost as bad as that of the blade. With this he took his time, letting the pain rake through him once more, before wiping away the excess, and tightly binding his thighs and then dressed himself. When he was finished he rested his hands atop his thighs, the perfect oval nails on his hands digging briefly into the skin at the edge of his short bottoms, leaving curved lines in the smooth, milky white skin. "Claude," came the quiet whisper from his lips. He knew he didn't matter how loudly he said, for the demon was bound to hear it. A firm knock on the door followed, accompanied by a dark melted honey voice Saying, "Your Highness?" "Come in," he winced at the emotion his voice showed, the weakness, so obvious after the sounds of Claude's monotone casualness. The demon was not unaware of his young Bocchan's self abuse, but he could not bring himself to stop him. For with each cut Alois made, his soul grew in appeal, until it was equal if not better then Ciel's. Something about the idea of those thin silver scars upon the golden haired boy's thighs held a different appeal entirely for Claude. It was this desire that made him step into the unlit room and stand next to the boy, closer then strictly necessary, and reach out a gloved hand to grasp his master's lovely oval face, a gesture shockingly out of character, tearing a gasp from Alois' lips. "Your Highness," the spider inquired, voice a soft almost purr, but not quite. Alois looked up at the demon, his tattered heart trembling and racing in his thin chest, blue eyes, large and clear framed by thick curling lashes. He was beautiful for a human, Claude couldn't help but notice. Like a porcelain doll painted with silver and gold, and he found that he wanted to play dirty with his delicate little human creature. "Claude…" his soft bird like voice came, breaking the silence that had fallen as Claude studied him with desire hidden in his honey colored gold eyes. The butler said nothing, running a gloved thumb over the boys pale cheek, waiting for the rest of the sentence, "…is it that you aren't capable of loving me and loving in general …or that you simply wont," he asked, startled into asking for the truth by Claude's actions instead of his intended request for some cake. The demon pulled back as the blondes aura flared around him, brilliant silver deliciously tainted with black veins, nearly as beautiful as Alois' soul. He studied them both, boy and aura, before answering, "I –I can love if I so chose, bur I simply do not." The devastation his words caused was clearly displayed, the pale face crumpling and his silver-blues became a water fall of silent tears, small slender shoulders collapsing forward. What disturbed the demon most was the strong feeling of a vital flame being snuffed out and the way Alois' blue eyes became dull behind the gleam of tears. A small well of panic stirred and bubbled up in the demon and he roughly grasped the blondes face in both of his gloved hands, "A-Alois!" Several more tears fell before the blondes blue eyes moved to stare lifelessly into the Claude's own golden gaze. Something in him had broken with Claude's words, he could live with not having Claude's love because it wasn't possible for him to love, but knowing the demon could love but found him unworthy of having it was more then he could bear and the light of the desire to live was extinguished. Claude could see it in his eyes, "What…" The spiders face did nothing to betray the panic and desperation he felt at the destruction he had—and it hurt his pride to admit it—stupidly caused. He should have known how his words would effect the boy. He yanked his gloves off before reaching once more to touch the smooth skin of the boy before him. The spider's heart, unfeeling, stuttered and he realized that he had been telling the truth when he had said he had not chosen to love, but his heart had. Seeing the boy like this almost broke his newly awoken heart, fluttering with soft, tender feelings of a denied love. He had not wanted to love, and that's why it had taken him so long to come to this realization. It seemed morbidly fitting that he would open himself to the idea of love after he destroyed its reason for existing—his reason for existing, but he had to try to fix this 


End file.
